


Lovesick in London

by jacklles



Category: Little Mix (Band), One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Artist Zayn, Boxer Liam, F/M, Football Player Louis, Gen, Maid Perrie, Maid in Manhattan, Maids, Rich Harry, Solo Artist Niall, Zayn has a maid, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-01
Updated: 2014-01-13
Packaged: 2017-12-31 03:37:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1026787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacklles/pseuds/jacklles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Perrie is nothing if not competitive. She is almost positive Zayn meant his comment to spark something in her and she is taking it to mean the beginning of a war. A war in which the two opposing sides are a girl fighting to thaw an ice-cold heart and a boy defending himself with piercing eyes and a killer pout.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Basically think of Maid in Manhattan, move it to London, make them hate each other at first and there you have it. Zayn is a famous painter. Perrie is his maid. He is a jerk. She is stubborn. Things happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Interview

**Author's Note:**

> Since I actually have the entire fic planned out, I hope it won't take me as long to finish it and I hope you like it :)

It was 8:30 in the morning and Perrie was already frustrated. She had fifteen minutes to make the bus and there was still twenty-five minutes left of Downton Abby and _it won’t play_. That’s what she got for thinking a library DVD would work, but wasn’t not like she had any money to actually _buy_ the entire season or even get a Netflix account. Perrie shook her head in irritation, gave up hope and close her laptop to put on some clothes for her interview.

“Wearing a polka-dot onesie to an interview probably isn’t the most professional thing in the world is it, Mr. Branson?” Perrie mused to her red and white guinea pig while she struggled to step out of the piece of clothing. Mr. Branson was an abnormally large guinea pig who was too busy chewing a new hole into her purse on the couch to answer. Not that he could of course, Perrie would probably faint then check herself into the psychiatric ward of the nearest hospital if he actually did talk to her. But if he could talk, Perrie assumed he would say something like:

_It’s professional as long as you’re counting on not getting the job._

“Fine, fine.” She said, and was very grateful that she lived alone so no one can hear that she had entire conversations with her guinea pig when she was alone, “But honestly Mr. Branson, did you ever think I would be applying to be a _maid_? I mean, I know there’s nothing wrong with it, it’s just.”

_You feel overqualified for it?_

“Yeah, I guess.” She mumbled, looking around for her other sock and tripping over Mr. Branson’s cage in the process of putting it on. “ _Blast it._ Why did I do this in the first place? Like, what was I thinking? I mean, besides babysitting Emma, Grace and Jamie thousands of times, what qualifications would I have for being a maid?”

_Why are you asking me? I’m just a rodent. Maybe you should start getting some human friends so they can talk you out of rash decisions._

Perrie frowned and said, “It wasn’t _that_ rash and it’s actually pretty convenient. And _why_ am I arguing with _you_ over this? I need human friends.”

 _That’s what I said. But you won’t be leaving me all alone_ every day _…will you? Let me come with you!_

Perrie waved him off and snatched her holy purse from her greedy pet and hurriedly put him in his cage before she remembered to grab her resume and race out the door yelling, “I’ll ask him about it all right?”

Perrie honestly didn’t know why she applied to be a maid of all things, but she was looking through the classifieds and saw a tiny ad in the newspaper that paid a ridiculously high amount for a cleaning lady, so she decided to give it a shot.

Both of her parents were trying to raise four kids on a less-than-stellar-income, even if her dad had moved all the way from South Shields to London for a promotion. Perrie knew they wouldn't be able to afford her college, so she had decided to get a job that paid well but would still let her take online classes every other day.

She had called the number on the newspaper and a deep Irish brogue had given her the address for the apartment. He told her to come by the day after next for her job interview and that when she arrived at the apartment to tell the doorman that she had an appointment with Mr. Higgins.

She had worried and fretted over the interview for what seemed like weeks when in reality it was only two days. She had woken up early Saturday morning, the day of the interview and—after watching as much as she could of Sybil and the real Mr. Branson’s budding romance—reluctantly got dressed.

 

 

Perrie made her way to the bus stop and had to endure the awkward twenty minute ride to Mr. Higgins’ apartment because a couple of teenage boys who had too much alcohol the night before thought it would be cool to try and make a move on her at eight in the morning.

Perrie hurriedly stepped off the bus, relieved to be rid of the hung-over creeps. She looked around and once she spotted the correct building, her mouth dropped open. Perrie never knew an apartment could be so massive or tall or _shiny_. She could literally see her reflection in the stone walls and _wow_ her hair was not working for her today. Perrie was still gaping as she slowly approached the doorman standing rigidly besides a set of ornate, crystal doors.

“Can I help you miss?” he asked in a domineering tone, making her feel as if she wasn’t supposed to be there.

“Umm I have an appointment with Mr. Higgins?” she cringed at her lack of confidence. Fortunately, the demeanor of the doorman—his name tag read Jack—changed completely. He instantly gave her a wide, welcoming smile, showing off his unusually straight and white teeth, before muttering into his sleeve, “Leaving station one, provide backup.”

Perrie thought the place seemed more like the London HQ for the FBI, but made no comment and waited while Jack opened the door for her with a sweeping gesture, saying to her, “Very well ma’am, please follow me.”

Jack lead her into the outrageously fancy lobby, which honestly looked more like a five star hotel than an apartment. There were elegant ladies in cocktail dresses and handsome men in tuxes casually talking to each other over glasses of wine and _it was only eight forty-five in the morning._

Perrie gasped slightly as she glimpsed a large spiraling staircase wrap around a gigantic cylindrical tank of water. The aquarium had beautiful coral, jellyfish, and stingrays and—she was terrified to see—a shark. The glass better be extra thick, Perrie thought, otherwise she will take the elevator. A little ways passed the staircase-of-death was a giant fireplace with big, squishy looking chairs, surrounding a strange fountain of a satyr playing a pipe, with golden water trickling out of the air holes to pool around his feet in a puddle of melted gold.

At the sight of the bizarre sitting area, Perrie muttered under her breath, “Oooookay. It’s official; this place is  _weird_.” But she followed Jack throughout the lobby anyway until they come to a pair of transparent elevators.

“We have another set of regular elevators if you are uncomfortable with these, ma’am. Many of our residents have motion-sickness and we would rather not have to clean up their…er…puke every day.” Perrie raised her eyebrows and grinned. 

“No these are fine, thanks. I have a strong stomach.”

“That’s refreshing,” he replied with a smile as the door slid smoothly open.

He let her go through first and continued, “To be honest, most of the people that can afford to live here are…well…” he stopped uncertainly, not wanting to sound blunt or rude, Perrie guessed, so she finished for him.

“Old?”

“Well…yeah,” he said, then laughed a little. Perrie was starting to realize that if she actually got the job she would be very interested in getting to know him better. Jack was nice once he knew you weren’t trying to break in. She noticed that he has pale, clear skin, light brown hair and hazel eyes framed by dark lashes. He was at least a foot taller than her but stood in a way that looked like he was trying to look smaller than he actually was.

Jack cleared his throat and Perrie suddenly realized that she had been caught staring. She blushed and looked away, choosing instead to gaze at the world that was swiftly rushing away from them, “Sorry about that, I don’t mean to be a creeper,” she muttered shyly.

He was grinning broadly when he said, “No that’s completely fine, and my girlfriend's not the jealous type anyway."

 _Of course._ Perrie blushed even more and all around felt very awkward but was saved from thinking of a reply when the doors opened. “Right this way Ms….?”

“Oh! My name’s Perrie, but you can call me Perrie if you like.”

Jack laughed loudly and Perrie felt quite accomplished, “Well then,  _Perrie_ , Mr. Higgins is this way and because I am simply the doorman, this is where I take my leave. Good luck on the interview, I honestly hope you get it.”

“How do you know about the interview?”

Jack grinned mischievously at her, “The penthouse owner is famous among the staff; he’s the nicest resident here.” A sheepish smile slowly crept over his face, “Also he likes to talk on the elevator.”

“Ah, well thank you. I hope I get it as well.” Perrie said and Jack turned away, waving a little as the doors closed in front of him, leaving Perrie alone in the massive hallway.

Tentatively, she crept up to the ornate door and knocked softly, hoping it could be heard through the thick wood. Ten seconds later, the largest man Perrie had ever seen greeted her and let her in, asking in the same thick accent she had heard on the phone, “So you are Ms. Perrie Edwards?”

“Y-yes sir.” She stuttered despite the kind smile on his face, too amazed and intimidated at the room and the man himself, who could have given professional wrestlers a run for their money.

The first thing she noticed about the apartment was a large satin couch, which looked like it cost more than her whole apartment, and an equally large flat-screen television on the wall in front of it. The living room—at least she assumed that was where they were—was spacious and made for the comfort of what looked like a teenage boy. At least, Perrie had a hard time believing that Mr. Higgins played FIFA and Mario Kart on the Playstation 4, or that he would ever sit on a bean-bag chair, or that he played basketball or football indoors. Perrie wondered if she knew what she is getting herself into. The ad did say cleaning lady instead of baby sitter…right?

“Please sit down, Ms. Edwards.”

Perrie sat gingerly on the couch, not wanting to wrinkle it or get any stains on the gorgeous material. “As you can probably tell by looking around, I do not live here. I am merely the agent of the young man who lives here and since I know him very well, it is my job to interview any maids seeking employment here.”

Perrie gulped. She had a feeling that everything she did will be noted and reviewed later by a panel of judges. Her palms felt clammy and she tried to surreptitiously wipe them off on her dress.

Unfortunately, Mr. Higgins seemed to be an observant man, because he said, “Please don’t be nervous, though. I already like you much better than any of the other girls, mainly because they were sixty-five and barely spoke English.”

Perrie suspected that he was trying to make her feel comfortable and she giggled a little, relieved to find he was as nice as Jack had claimed.

“Now you don’t need a whole lot of experience for this job, all you really need to know is how to do every day cleaning. Toilets, laundry, vacuuming, sweeping, cooking; simple stuff like that. Is that too daunting or can you do that, Perrie?”

Perrie smiled, “I have three younger siblings I babysit, sir. I can do all of those things.” She remembered what Mr. Branson had said that morning and she added, “I was also wondering if it would be too much trouble to bring my guinea pig with me? He is house trained and won’t chew any of your client’s furniture I promise.”

Mr. Higgins let out a booming laugh that warmed her heart and said, “Excellent! I like a girl who knows hard work and please when you clean here you can make yourself at home as much as you would like. Now, I only need one other thing from you.”

Perrie looked at him anxiously, she hoped there wasn’t some sort of catch like she could work here _as long as_ she also sold her vinyl rock records. Because then she would have decline, even though the logical part of her brain said that Mr. Higgins probably didn’t care that her vinyl collection was the only valuable thing she owned.

“All I need to know is if you can keep secrets.”

At Perrie’s questioning look, he went on, “This young man is a rather high-profile resident of the apartment complex, and he is like a son to me, so I would hate to see him get hurt. I need to know that you will not tell anyone who exactly you work for, and if someone does ask you, just say you clean house for Mr. Higgins. Is that all right?”

Perrie wasn’t sure if she should feel nervous or not. Did ‘high-profile’ mean she would be cleaning the house of a  _celebrity_?

“W-well sir, to be completely honest, I don’t really know anyone here so I won’t have a problem with keeping a secret.”

She bit her lip and looked down at her hands in shame, _why_  did she tell him that. Perrie could have just said that, yes, she can keep a secret. She’s not a blabber-mouth and now that she thought about it, it should be added to her resume. But  _no_  she had to start spilling her loneliness on her  _possible boss_ , which is unprofessional, tacky and pitiful.

She _really_ needed friends.

Perrie was surprised to feel a large, callused thumb gently lift up her chin and wipe away the tears she didn’t know were on her cheeks. Perrie could be cleaning the apartment of a young, spoiled, rich kid, she asked if she could bring her pet over _and_ she’s cried already. This interview was just going swimmingly.

“You know,” he said, and if Perrie didn’t know better she thought his voice sounded strained, as if he were fighting tears himself. But that was ridiculous because even though Mr. Higgins was a nice man, he didn’t know her.

“I am a real sucker for lost puppies, lord knows the boys have realized that and they use it against me every chance they get.” He said.

Perrie frowned; confused as to what he was talking about and what it has to do with her. The boys? Who were the boys?

“But because I’m a softie and I really do like you, Perrie, you get the job. Be here tomorrow at nine o’clock sharp. Zayn will be here, and because he’s a lazy bum he’ll be asleep so don’t wake him. Here’s a key and you can—”

“Wait, what?!” Things were happening so quickly Perrie couldn’t process them all. She got the job? Who was Zayn? What about lost puppies and keys? It wasn’t the Zayn she was thinking of, right? Because that would be ridiculous. And crazy. And bloody _amazing._

Mr. Higgins smiled kindly at her stunned expression. He said, “Congratulations Perrie Edwards, you are now the maid of Zayn Malik. If you accept the position, at least. Zayn can be a little rough around the edges but he really is pretty easy to get along with once you find out what his quirks are…Are you all right, Perrie?”

Zayn Malik?  _Zayn Malik_?

Perrie felt light-headed all of the sudden and the room had started to spin a little. Was this really happening? Was she  _really_  about to clean the house of the only painter she has ever seriously liked?

The  _world famous_ painter? The guy that was so good people were saying he was the next Di Vinci or Michelangelo? Whose paintings sell for zillions of dollars? Well. Maybe not  _zillions_. But it would be enough for Perrie to be able to live comfortably for the rest of her life. Not that she needed a lot. Really, she could survive on Netflix and occasional trips to Walmart for food and deodorant and be perfectly happy. Perrie snapped herself out of her wandering thoughts to answer her future—no. He was her employer now, she reminded herself. Scary.

“I-I think I am,” she stuttered, struggling to contain all of the emotions that were rushing through her. On one hand, she was so nervous at the thought of being so close to  _Zayn Malik_  she could barely stand it. On the other hand, if she didn’t get outside soon enough she will start yelling and dancing around like an idiot in excitement at the thought of being so close to  _Zayn Malik_ in front of her boss, which would just be embarrassing and uncomfortable for both of them. Although one thing still didn’t make sense….

“I’m guessing you are a fan of his artwork, then?”

Perrie laughed a little, and said breathlessly, “Yes sir, very much so; for about three years now. But I was wondering…would you mind telling me how old he is?”

Mr. Higgins smiled, a mischievous glint in his eye, and Perrie felt  _much_  more nervous than she was before, “You’ll find out tomorrow. Now, all of your supplies will be here already and you don’t need a uniform, so just come in quietly and maybe start cooking an omelet and some bacon for him. Some green peppers, garlic, mushrooms and sharp cheddar; turkey bacon too, he’s Muslim. Then if you don’t mind make him a glass of apple juice in his Power Rangers cup. The red one is his favorite.”

Perrie’s mouth was hanging open, and remembering how much she was getting paid, she closed it and kept a carefully blank expression, not commenting on the fact that it sounded like Zayn was about twelve years old.

Mr. Higgins laughed loudly again, and Perrie smiled despite her anxiety, “I really do like you, Perrie. I hope that Zayn does too. Actually, he’d be an idiot if he doesn’t. I am looking forward to seeing you again, but I need to be somewhere, so just enjoy the rest of your day and be here bright and early tomorrow morning.”

***

Paul watched as the girl nodded excitedly and rushed out of the room. Paul smiled to himself and started humming a tune, one of those blasted songs Niall was always singing at the top of his lungs.

He was pleased; the girl will be good for Zayn, whether he wanted her around or not. She seemed to have a good head on her shoulders and she won’t be scared off by Zayn’s somewhat stand-offish demeanor. If anything Paul thought that Perrie would see it as a challenge, and he was looking forward to see how Zayn will react to a battle that Paul thought he was surely going to lose.

He was also anxious for Perrie to meet the other boys, because their opinion of Perrie was more important to Zayn than anyone else’s. Hopefully, they will all fall in love with her, giving Zayn no choice but to at least tolerate her as well.

Of course, Paul would be lying to himself if part of him didn’t want to see Perrie as a more permanent part of the place, and not as a maid, but that would be getting ahead of himself. Paul just hoped Zayn won’t be too mad about it, lord knows that boy could pout for weeks at a time. 

Zayn won’t be too mad...will he? By the time he got his things together, Paul had almost convinced himself that this transition will actually be smoother than the others. That it will be different.

God, he hoped he was right.

***

 “You did  _what_?”

“Zayn, it’s not that big of a deal, all I did was hire a maid to keep the place clean—”

“But Paul I don’t like having people around me when I work, you know that. Besides I'm clean. I mean I'm not  _Harry-_ clean, but you and I both know that I'm  _not_ Louis-clean. I don't need a maid Paul.” Zayn's voice sounded far too much like a whine to Paul and he was going to have none of it.

“Zayn.” Paul said in his ‘father’ tone that he only used when they both knew Zayn was being unreasonable. “She’s a sweet girl and she won’t disturb you, you can tell her not to clean your art room if you want.”

Zayn  _humphed_  and started stirring his cappuccino absentmindedly, oblivious to the girls making eyes at him from across the shop. Every day, Paul and Zayn have a coffee at the local café and talk about work and any new ideas Zayn has for his paintings, which he never talks about with anyone else, except for Liam. 

Liam was the type that made a good listener and he truly liked hearing about Zayn’s work, though Zayn was self-conscious and was never sure if Liam wasn’t just being polite, but Paul knew better.

Zayn’s best friends were loud and crazy and immature, but they were also some of the only people who love Zayn for who he was, not for what he could do for them. They were intensely loyal to him and would not hesitate to defend him to the end. Paul knew that Perrie could one day join those ranks, the only problem was Zayn letting her, which was why he knew Zayn was being ridiculous.

“Zayn, you’re being ridiculous. Haven’t you always told me that I have impeccable taste in character?” at Zayn’s grudging nod Paul continued, “Well I know that this girl is good. She’s quiet and a hard worker and…and…”

Then Paul got an idea. Paul knew that Zayn had a low self-esteem for someone so highly regarded in the art world, and that it stemmed from growing up in a home where being an artist was a sham job that no one in their right minds would want to have. Zayn’s father was a nice man when you were something respectable like a doctor or a lawyer but when Zayn told him he was going to art school, his father flew into a rage. He told Zayn he would never be welcomed at their house as long as he was going to “keep his head in the clouds” with his dream of painting professionally.

When Zayn graduated at the top of the class with all of his teachers telling him he was a prodigy and should continue painting, Zayn hired Paul. Paul thought it was because Zayn was young and he had no real idea what he was doing. He needed someone who knew what they were talking about to help him, to be a mentor to him. Paul’s father was a famous investor in valuable art, so Paul could tell from the moment he saw Zayn’s work that the boy was going places.

Paul was paid at first. That soon changed when Paul met his parents after Zayn sold his first painting for a quarter of a million pounds. Zayn had thought that if his dad had seen how successful he was he would accept Zayn again, but it only resulted in another shouting match. But it wasn’t between Zayn and his father; Paul had done the shouting. His heart broke when he saw the sorry excuse of a father Zayn had to live with for most of his life, and so he got mad and started yelling. It hadn’t done any good though, it had only wounded Yasser’s pride, which made the situation much, much worse. So Paul had decided that after that he would be the father Zayn never had; the father that supported his dream.

“And?” Zayn asked impatiently, still stirring his lukewarm coffee and still unaware of the female attention he was receiving. 

Paul said, “…and she loves your paintings. She doesn’t know this, but she’s been a fan ever since you started.”

Zayn’s eyes shot up to his and Paul thought he saw a quiet acceptance in them, but he pursed his lips and said, “Doesn’t mean I’ll like her.”

Paul rolled his eyes, “Just give her some time, okay? For me?”

“Fine.” He said, getting up to throw away his cup and shooting a strange face to the giggling group of girls sitting two tables over, “But I’m not gonna make it easy for her, she has to prove herself.”

“That’s all I’m asking, just time for her to do that.” Paul said, relieved that Zayn was all right with the situation.

Zayn looks back at the cluster of girls, who were now picking up purses and looking as if they were going to leave as well, “Come on, let’s get out of here. Those girls are freaking me out.”

 

 


	2. The First Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm terribly sorry this took so long but I quite like how it turned out. Feedback would be lovely :)

The first time Perrie saw Zayn Malik she thought she had stumbled into one of her dreams.

It was nine-fifteen in the morning and she had just gotten started on his breakfast, cooking the bacon and then the eggs, his glass of juice ready—red power ranger emblazoned on the side and all. She had been working quietly, the kitchen silent except for the sizzling and popping of the bacon.

Perrie’d be lying to herself if she said she wasn’t anxious about meeting her boss. She realized with a sinking feeling in her stomach that his first impression of her will be based on her cooking ability and that it could turn out very badly if she messed up anything so. No pressure or anything. She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, unaware that she was sweating already. How lovely.

Perrie figured that it was the smell that woke him up because it was so strong in the kitchen it was making her mouth water. She was just about to remove the bacon and turn over the omelet when she heard the sound of a door opening and the soft padding of bare feet.

She looked up nervously, peeking around the door. Perrie wasn’t exactly sure what she had been expecting but it certainly wasn’t the young man walking towards her. Zayn had on a rumpled Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles shirt, red flannel pajamas, messy hair and a concentrated pout. His eyes were still squinting from the bright room and Perrie wondered if he always looked so intimidating.

A soft noise escaped her mouth before she could stop herself. Zayn paused momentarily to give her a strange look, and her stomach clenched painfully when she saw how the shadow of his stubble only highlighted his ridiculous cheekbones.

Perrie watched, transfixed, as he gingerly made his way to the counter and pulled back one of the high stools. Very deliberately, he sat down and rested his elbows on the granite counter-top, looking like he is waiting for something. Perrie realized a second later that he was waiting for _her_ , so she hurriedly placed the bacon and omelet on a plate that had a cartoon of Spiderman swinging from skyscrapers and set it and the glass of juice in front of him.

Zayn only grunted in response and Perrie waited anxiously as he brought a piece of omelet to his mouth and chewed. Perrie almost passed out holding her breath, waiting for his reaction to see if he actually liked any of her food.

But apparently Zayn was just as good at playing poker as he was at painting because his face gave nothing away. Eventually she gave up and started cleaning the stove and sink, the only noises in the kitchen being the occasional banging when she wasn’t careful with the pot she was holding.

After five minutes of intensely awkward silence, Perrie couldn’t take it anymore. She was finished cleaning because for once she hadn’t made a complete mess of the kitchen and Perrie decided that there was no time like the present to get to know her employer, so she wiggled her way onto the stool next to him, her feet dangling a foot off the ground.

“So, umm good morning, did you sleep well? I guess you figured it out by now, but I’m Perrie your new maid.” She said, sounding brilliantly stupid to her ears.

Perrie knew it was a bad idea right after she finished talking because Zayn didn’t say anything and just looked at her like she was crazy. Which, wasn’t unreasonable because she _did_ talk to her guinea pig, but Zayn didn’t have to know that.

Finally, after an agonizing amount of time that mounted to a staring contest between them, with his voice still deep and rough from sleep, Zayn said, “And as a maid what is your job?”

Perrie blinked and breathed in, glad she had an excuse to look at something other than the swirl of green and brown and gold that were Zayn’s eyes. She cleared her throat and said uncertainly, “Well, Mr. Higgins said I was supposed to do laundry, cook, vacuum, and clean the bathrooms and just tidy up in general.”

Zayn was still staring at her evenly and Perrie had a feeling she was being tested for a subject she forgot to study for.

After a moment of silence Zayn looked to his empty plate and then up at her. He abruptly stood up and walked out of the kitchen and disappeared into the one room she wasn’t allowed in, but before the door closed he said, “Then you better do that instead of trying to chat up the guy who’s paying you.”

Perrie’s cheeks flooded with heat and she took the plate and cup, putting them in the dishwasher. She silently started picking up the stupid thousand dollar toys that littered the living room and put them on their respective shelves. Why did she ever think artistic, brooding guys were attractive? They weren’t sexy or intriguing, they were mean and rude and Perrie hated them.

She was a bit disappointed that her employer turned out to be a douche wad, but part of her welcomed it as a challenge. Because he was making it difficult for her to like him, which just made her want crack his shell even more.

Because Perrie was nothing if not competitive. She was almost positive Zayn meant his comment to spark something in her and she was going to take it to mean the beginning of a war. A war in which the two opposing sides were a girl fighting to thaw an ice-cold heart and a boy defending himself with piercing eyes and a killer pout.

She could do this, she _would_ win. So what if he was probably the most beautiful human being she had ever seen? It was only something to distract her from the fact that he had an ugly personality. She _could_ do this.

 

Perrie hoped she could, at least. Because if she had to pick up one more bra from underneath his stupid king-sized bed she thought she might scream. Although, currently she had four dangling from her hand, and judging by the size they looked like they might fit her. Apparently Zayn had a thing for C-cups.

Perrie fist-bumped herself in celebration of obtaining at least four new, very nice bras for _free_. A victory in her eyes, even if Zayn didn’t know about it. In all honesty she wasn’t surprised Zayn was popular with women because she _did_ have eyes and a girl (or guy, who knows) could probably look over his terrible personality for at least one night.

But Perrie’s victory was short-lived because the next thing she knew she was kneeling down, bent over the toilet seat brushing the tendrils of hair out of her face as she scrubbed the stained bowl spotless.

She paused for a moment to catch her breath, it took a lot of work to clean a toilet, especially one that was as dirty as Zayn’s. Perrie sighed to herself as she started on another spot. Her life had officially become the non-romantic-comedy version of _Maid in Manhattan_ and that just sucked.

***

“You need to fire her.”

Paul looked up from his blueberry scone to see Zayn sitting down in the chair across from him, a hard glint in his eyes. Paul hid a grin and tried to play dumb.

“It’s nice to see you too Zayn.” Paul said and Zayn scoffed and rolled his eyes. “So was I wrong about the excellent judge of character thing? Did she break your Xbox or steal your limited edition comic book signed by Stan Lee?” Paul knew she hadn’t but he just wanted Zayn to admit out loud why he didn’t want her around.

“…No.” Zayn said grumpily and Paul was amazed at how much he sounded like a petulant child.

“Does she not clean well enough? Does her cooking taste bad?” Paul knew he was badgering Zayn, but at the moment he was enjoying seeing how far Zayn’s bottom lip could stick out before he strained a muscle.

“Does she come in to work late? Does she not put things back whe—”

“No! All right?” Zayn burst out, sighed loudly and ran a frustrated hand through his hair while Paul sat back in his chair and felt very accomplished.

“She does all the things she’s supposed to, _I guess_. It’s just.” Zayn stopped, and Paul leaned forward with a gentle smile on his face

“What’s wrong with her Zayn?” Paul asked softly.

Zayn slumped in his chair and glanced up at Paul with a dejected look on his face and finally said, “I dunno. She’s _weird_.”

Paul barked out a laugh, “Well Zayn, not to burst your bubble but that’s not exactly a credible reason to fire someone. What do you mean, ‘weird’?”

Zayn shrugged, then started counting off on his fingers, “She sings while she cleans and between you and me it’s not the most pleasant thing in the world. She always wears something with polka dots which is strange. She walks around the place in a pair of slippers like she’s an old lady or something. She talks to herself and it _freaks me out_. She puts all her hair on top of her head in a weird bun thing but most of the time a strand or two falls out. Oh! And, get this—she brings her pet guinea pig, which is _ginormous,_ to work and just lets him chill out on a little pee pad while she cleans. What’s up with that huh? Also she watches _Downton Abbey_ on my Netflix account when I’m not there and when she’s done cleaning she stays and goes on her laptop like the place is her home and I _know_ that is unprofessional. She’s just.” Zayn paused, trying to think of another word beside ‘weird,’ “Abnormal.”

Paul tried very hard not to laugh again, he really did, but it took two more bites of his scone and a sip of his scalding hot tea to be able to look at Zayn’s pouting face without breaking out into a smile.

When he finally composed himself Paul said, “Well I don’t know about the singing and slippers and hair, but I told her Mr. Branson was welcome and that she could make herself at home as long as she wanted because you don’t usually do anything unless the boys are coming.”

“Mr…Branson?” Zayn looked exceedingly unimpressed and Paul didn’t even try to hide his grin.

Zayn was about to start grumbling again but Paul said quickly, “You know it’s really not that big of a deal, Z. You’re just being difficult because she actually has a personality. How about you introduce her to the boys and if they think she’s as bad as you do _then_ and only then will I have a talk with her.”

“Fine. _But,_ ” he said, leaning in excitedly in his seat and Paul looked warily at him, “if they don’t like her then she’s gone.”

Paul narrowed his eyes, “But.” He countered, “If they _do_ like her, she can stay and clean as long as she wants and you can’t fire her unless she does something actually illegal. _And_ Mr. Branson as well.”

Zayn looked moody at the compromise, but eventually he agreed on one more condition. Paul sighed exasperatedly. Dealing with Zayn sometimes was too much like parenting a temperamental six-year-old.

“What?”

“I don’t have to go to that stupid dance on Saturday.”

Paul rolled his eyes, “Dude. It’s a _charity ball_ , not a school dance. Besides, you already told Grimmy you would go.”

“Yeah but I’ll donate whatever money I get from my next painting to the charity. I would go but Niall has a concert at the O2 the same night and Liam, Harry and Louis said they’d be there as well, but only for that night. C’mon, _please_ Paul?”

Paul finished off his scone and wiped the crumbs from his mouth before saying, “Okay, but you’re telling Grimmy, not me.”

“Yeah okay.” Zayn agreed, got up from the chair and headed toward the counter to order a drink.

When he returned to his seat Paul asked, “So how are you gonna introduce them to Perrie? All at once or will you be nice for once and ease her into it?”

Zayn’s hurt look didn’t fool Paul for a second.

“Hey, I’m nice! I just don’t do well around new people. But I was gonna bring ‘em over one-by-one, like Liam then Harry then Niall then Louis, because let’s be honest, _you_ could barely handle them all at once.”

And Paul could only agree.

***

It seemed like forever to Zayn until it was Saturday and he was able to shrug on his favorite leather jacket, grab his beanie and sketchbook, and tell Perrie, “I’m going to a concert, don’t be here when I get back.”

He winced internally at how harsh it sounded, but he probably wasn’t going to get back until early in the morning and it was only logical that she shouldn’t still be there, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. It helped make him seem meaner, he thought.

Perrie was fixing herself a bowl of macaroni and cheese with hotdogs, a dish she seemed fond of making in the evening, and she looked up in surprise, probably shocked that he was actually talking to her, which Zayn could understand. He knew he was unfair and mean, because he had practically ignored her in the last two weeks she had been working for him, but it annoyed him for some reason that his stand-offish behavior didn’t seem to faze her. Well, after their first interaction at least.

He had actually felt quite guilty and was working up the nerve to apologize to her for a couple days after that first morning until he sat down one day to watch an episode of _Friends_ on Netflix only to see that someone had taken the liberties to use _his_ account to watch episodes of _Downton Abbey_ , _Castle_ , and—he was slightly amused to see— _Maid in Manhattan_. After that he stopped feeling bad whenever he was mean to her, because it turned out that she fought back, just in a very strange, round-a-bout manner.

She would retaliate in little ways. Like, not washing his favorite cup and giving him the _yellow_ power ranger one instead, and Zayn had no idea how but he was _sure_ she knew it was his least favorite. She was actually doing it then as well, and Zayn tensed when he saw her carry the limited edition Star Wars bowl and spoon set to the counter.

Perrie responded to him with a flippant, “Yeah sure, okay. Who are you going to see?”

Zayn stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jacket and looked at a stain on her shirt, “One of my friends, Niall. He’s playing at the O2 and I haven’t seen him in a while, so.”

Zayn was actually surprised how awkward he was talking to her, and he wanted very much to leave before he could make a fool out of himself and lose all the ground he’s gained by ignoring her. He expected her to say something sarcastic like, ‘Wow I didn’t know you _had_ friends!’ but instead her mouth dropped open in shock. Zayn raised his eyebrows in a silent question.

“Wait you mean Niall as in _Niall_? Like Niall _Horan?_ The super famous pop star who is currently finishing up his massive world tour?”

Well when she put it like _that_.

“Uh, yeah. And I actually gotta go so I’m not late so, uh, clean up once you’re done eating and lock the door behind you.” Zayn practically ran in his haste to get out of the kitchen.

She was making him feel weird. Weird that he was friends with a successful singer, weird that he was starting to feel bad about being mean to her, and most of all weird that he had an urge to eat cheap, out-of-the-box macaroni and cheese with hotdogs.

 

 

Zayn arrived at the arena half an hour before Niall was supposed to go on stage and he struggled to make his way through the mass of girls crowding the entrance. He loved being with the other boys’ fans though because it made him proud of how much they had accomplished, but sometimes it just made him claustrophobic.

Zayn eventually made his way over to Dean, his favorite body guard, and said, “Hey Dean how’s it going? Big crowd tonight eh?”

Dean grinned tiredly and had to talk directly in Zayn’s ear in order for him to be able to hear the man. “Yeah, real big crowd. Niall’s waiting for you backstage and last I heard he’s just lying on his couch not doing anything.”

Zayn furrowed his eyebrows in worry. Niall was one of the most energetic, carefree guys Zayn knew and his nerves must’ve been something awful if he was so quiet before a show. Zayn looked at Dean again and nodded as Dean opened the door behind him.

Zayn walked through and found his way to Niall’s dressing room without getting too hopelessly lost. When he saw his best friend lying on his couch with his arm slung over his shoulder, Zayn’s stomach clenched in sympathy. Not announcing his presence, Zayn strode over to the boy moaning softly into his arm and plopped down on his legs.

Niall’s arm flew off his face and he screeched, “Oi! I gotta a shoddy knee you fu—oh. Shouldda known it was you, Malik. How’d you get here by yourself?”

Zayn grinned and got up enough for Niall to swing his legs over off the couch. “I swear you’re getting t’ be an old man Niall. What is a sold out world tour too much for your delicate Irish blood?”

“Shove off Zayn I _was_ gonna say glad I am that you’re here, but now…and besides, you ignored my question.” Niall said.

Zayn laughed and shoved him, which Niall quickly returned. By the time Liam, Louis, and Harry walked in Niall and Zayn were in a full-out tickle war, each boy shrieking with laughter and any possible nerves and questions about Zayn’s mode of transportation forgotten.

Never for one to be left out of something, Louis said loudly, “Now what do you two think you’re doing ‘eh?”

Niall and Zayn looked up at the sound of Louis’ voice and both yelled incomprehensibly as the other three boys tackle them on the couch, the mass of bodies more closely resembling a pile of puppies than five young men.

And even though the cuddle session was quite nice and he _had_ missed his friends, Zayn was feeling the brunt of the combined body weight, as well as Louis’ bum in his face. And it wasn’t like wasn’t a _nice_ bum, Zayn would just rather have it somewhere other than in his mouth. He also noticed with a groan that neither of Louis or Liam had showered and they both smelled like sweat and frankly Zayn just wanted to puke, so he grunted and started shoving at various limbs until he could breathe again.

“I love you guys but Christ. You lot are _heavy_.” Zayn muttered as he tried to work out a kink in his neck.

“Watch it Malik! Don’t insult my girlish figure or I’ll have Payno here toss you around a bit.”

Zayn rolled his eyes at Louis’ mock-offended tone. Out of all five Louis cared the least about working out or staying fit, much to the chagrin of his coach, and out of all five Liam was the least likely to toss any of them around. Which was why Zayn ignored Louis and continued to massage himself.

“So how did you get here Z? I would’ve given you a ride if you asked.” Harry said and Zayn rolled his eyes. He seemed to do that a lot around them.

“I am an independent person you all know that right? I took the subway, okay?” Zayn said and the others shook their head in exasperation. Zayn didn’t care though because he’s _used_ to taking the subway, back when he wasn’t a millionaire and still in art school.

Niall laughed good-naturedly, because everything Niall did was of the good-natured variety, and said, “Should’ve known you would do something like that, make the rest of us feel like snobs using our private drivers and all.”

Zayn frowned and felt guilty for making _them_ feel guilty. “It’s not _that_ , I’m just used to it and it’s not like anyone would recognize me. One of the perks of being a painter is anonymity. And anyway, it was dinner time and I didn’t want to interrupt Roger’s time with his family. ”

“Mate.” Louis said, smiling gently, “You wouldn’t be interrupting him technically because it’s his _job_. And I’m sure Harry here feels quite insulted that you never actually use the birthday present you gave him.”

Zayn groaned and ran his hand over his face in frustration. Why were they having this conversation now of all times? It must be almost time for Niall to go out on stage surely.

He mumbled just loud enough for them to hear, “I still don’t know why you would give someone a _chauffeur_ for their 21 st birthday in the first place? You could’ve at least gotten me a stripper or _something_.” Zayn realized too late that he said that last part out loud, blushed slightly and Louis wasted no time jumping on it.

“But Li and I here did that and you didn’t seem too ecstatic. Have you had a change of heart, Zaynie?”

Zayn was saved from answering when Niall’s manager, Chuck, told Niall he had 5 minutes till he had to be on stage. Without having to say a word the other four boys stood up and move so that they were in a circle, enveloping Niall in a group hug.

“You’re gonna do great, you know that right?” Liam said earnestly and Niall nodded but bite his lip nervously.

“Just remember that no matter what happens on that stage, you will have four incredibly rich, good-looking, and powerful friends cheering you on.” Louis said and Niall giggled, cheeks flushing and eyes shining up at them all.

“I love you guys, but get me out of here I have fans waiting for me!” Niall said and they all laughed, releasing him.

During the concert Zayn cheered along with the others and sang to every song. Every time the crowd gave a particularly loud roar Zayn’s chest would swell with pride because that was _his best friend_ they were cheering for.

The concert ended and once Niall was able to separate himself from his management, they walked down to the local ice cream parlor. Zayn was pretty sure they wouldn’t get a lot of trouble because it was midnight and every other shop closed at ten except for “Sweeter than Revenge.” Besides, the place only attracted hipsters that late at night so even if one of them were recognized, Zayn doubted they would actually approach any of them.

They each got their favorite flavor of ice cream and Harry got frozen yogurt because he’s weird. They paid the starry-eyed worker behind the counter and crammed into a booth near the back.

Zayn was contentedly licking at his rocky road when he looked up to see Harry and Louis staring at him, Harry with a more forgiving expression on his face than Louis, who looked much too calculating for Zayn’s liking.

“Can I help you?” he asked slowly, dreading what they were going to say.

At Zayn’s question, Liam and Niall also looked up from their desserts, glancing between Zayn and Louis and Harry.

After another moment of excruciating silence, during which Zayn had concocted about a thousand reasons for his friends’ expressions and about half of them had to do with the stripper comment he made earlier, Louis finally said, “When were you gonna tell us you got yourself a fit new maid huh Zayn? Next time we were over? I don’t know about you, but if she’s really hot I should be warned so I don’t embarrass myself because sometimes I don’t have a filter.”

Zayn responded by groaning into the crook of his arm and wondering why he had idiots for friends.

“Moom tood ooo?”

Niall laughed and Harry grinned, saying, “Sorry mate didn’t catch that.”

Zayn sighed and lifted his head up, glaring at Louis, “Who told you?”

“Well Paul told dear Harold here, at the charity auction you wimped out of two days ago and then because Harry’s personality sometimes alarmingly resembles that one of a middle aged woman, he couldn’t help but gossip about it to me. Apparently you’ve had her for three weeks and you haven’t even told us! _I thought we were friends, Zayn._ ”

Zayn rolled his eyes yet again and considered saying that if they were such good friends then why hadn’t they been over to visit for three weeks, but he didn’t. Zayn was nothing if not a conflict avoider, which was partly why he wanted Paul to be the one to fire Perrie but that was neither here nor there. He was also tired and wanted to get back to his rapidly melting ice cream before it turned into soup so he tried to make the interrogation end as soon as possible by severely cutting back on any snarky remarks.

“I’m terribly sorry that I don’t update you on my life 24/7 and from now on I will start sending you a play-by-play via text. You do have unlimited right? Because your phone bill might get a little pricy since my life is _so_ interesting.”

Well. He _tried_ okay?

Fortunately before Louis could open his mouth Niall said with a mouth full of cookie dough, “Wad da bib deel? Id nod lik—”

“ _Niall_.” Louis hissed, scandalized, “Please talk with your mouth empty _we are in public._ ” Liam and Harry snorted into their bowls while Niall glared balefully at Louis as he swallowed.

“I _said_.” Zayn bit back a grin at Niall’s sassy tone, “What’s the big deal? It’s not like he got a girlfriend. It’s just a maid. Big deal.”

Louis made a frustrated noise, but Liam seemed to understand why Louis was—in Zayn’s opinion—making such a scene.

“Zayn.” Liam said suddenly and Zayn was relieved to have an excuse to ignore Louis’ gaze boring into him.

“Yeah Li?”

Zayn’s always had a soft spot for Liam. Out of all of them he best understood Zayn’s need for a quiet night in while the others loved to party into the early morning. Well, most of the time it was early, once Niall apparently didn’t get home until eight in the morning after he won his first VMA.

“How old is your maid?”

Zayn shrugged. “I dunno, maybe twenty? Bout the same age as us I s’pose. Why, what’s that have to do—” Oh.

Zayn then understood Louis’ action and turned to him.

“No Louis.”

Louis responded immediately, as if he was waiting until Zayn figured it out. “You don’t even know what I was gonna say! I couldda asked you if you didn’t mind if I could date your sister. How’d you feel now?”

Zayn sighed, trying _so hard_ to be patient.

“I don’t like her like that Lou, and I never will. Got it?”

“Who, your sister? Well I bloody hope not, that’s incest, mate. Might need to cast you in Game of Thrones after all huh Haz?”

Zayn gave Harry an imploring look and Harry patted Louis on the arm placatingly. Louis took one look at Harry and huffed, blowing his fringe of his forehead for a moment.

There was a moment of silence until Niall said in his best Larry The Cable Guy accent, “Ya’ll are gonna have to run that by me again cuz I aint get nun of it.”

Zayn grinned, Liam snorted into his strawberry ice cream and Harry being the ever-patient friend started explaining in his very unique way, “Zayn got a maid. She’s a she. (Zayn started groaning here. His friends really were idiots.) She’s also coincidentally the same age as Zayn. Lou here thinks Paul, being the surrogate overbearing mother he is, hired her in the hopes that they’ll get married and have loads of kids and live happily ever after. Zayn says it won’t happen and Louis wants to prove him wrong. The end.”

“Oh.” Niall said, tapping his spoon against his chin apparently in deep thought. “So it’s kinda like _Maid in Manhattan_ except instead of the romantic-Ralph Fiennes, Perrie—aka Jennifer Lopez—gets more of the Voldemort-Ralph Fiennes which sucks for her. Man I’d rather even go for him in _Wuthering Heights_ —”

“He was _fantastic_ in that.” Harry cut in.

“Wasn’t he?” Niall said wistfully.

“Guys!” Zayn shouted, effectively shutting Harry and Niall up. Thankfully the shop was now empty otherwise Zayn would have been quite embarrassed.

“You’re gonna have to introduce us to her eventually, you know that right?” Liam asked kindly.

“Yeah, yeah I know,” Zayn grumbled, “and I already got it planned it out so she doesn’t have an aneurism meeting all of you at the same time because I don’t know if any of you have noticed, but we’re freakin _crazy_ all together.”

“Aww are we looking out for her wellbeing? That’s _adorable_.”

“Louis I swear to God if you don’t _shut up_ you’ll never get to meet her.”

“Geeze Z don’t get your balls in a twist mate. I’ll lay off all right? I mainly just want to meet her to see if she’s hot or not because Paul wouldn’t tell Harry and Harry’s too much of a gentlemen to ask, unfortunately for me.”

Zayn sighed for about five minutes.

Back in college Zayn had taken a Biblical Studies class just for kicks and grins and because his advisor told him he needed another elective. He learned only two things in that class, the first was that these two chicks got their father, Lot, really drunk and slept with him so they could ‘preserve their line’ which Zayn thought was pretty screwed up. Whenever he felt bad about himself he would remind himself that at least he didn’t sleep with his parents.

The second thing he learned was that 1 Corinthians 13 (Love is patient, love is kind, love does not boast, etc.) was a super famous passage that people would use in weddings all the time. But his professor said that the translation most people read was not the best one, because the original Greek form of _patient_ actually translated to _long-suffering._

Being friends with Louis didn’t require patience. It required long-suffering. And usually Zayn was pretty good at it, he would just sigh a lot and roll his eyes and just suffer for a _long_ time. Which is definitely what he was doing now.

“Why don’t you just ask me since I see her every day?”

“Because you won’t tell me.” Louis said.

“Just try.”

“Okay. Zayn, is your new maid fit?”

“I’m not telling you.”

Louis grinned, “So she is then? Well I hope I get to meet her first.”

Zayn sighed. He was really getting tired of it, his lips were bound to get chapped by doing it so much. He looked the others before saying wearily, “Li you’re meeting her first.”

“Ace!” Liam said earnestly and Louis glared at Zayn. Zayn didn’t care, he was going to delay Louis meeting Perrie for as long as he could. Because when they finally _did_ meet, Louis would make things awkward like commenting on the sexual tension in the room and maybe he should leave so they could have some alone time. Even when there wasn’t sexual tension in the first place Louis would say it just to see Zayn squirm because deep down Louis Tomlinson hated Zayn’s guts.

“Whatever Zayn but just as a tip: If she gets mad at you—and let’s face it, you’re pretty easy to get mad at—and says ‘God I just wanna blow your brains out!’ throw her off by sayin, ‘Can I just choose the method? Because I can think of one way that would be much more pleasurable for me.’ and her reaction should be pretty interesting and it would definitely add to the already thick sexual tension I’m _sure_ is present between you two.”

“Oh my God Louis _no_. I’m going home.”

Zayn stood up, flipped off Louis, and said to the others, “See you round.”

And if in the subway on his way home he was thinking about a guinea pig and macaroni and cheese with hotdogs, well, that’s nobody’s business but his own. _Especially_ Louis Tomlinson’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Zayn, huh?


End file.
